


Stranger Than Fiction

by Overturned_Decent



Category: Leah on the Offbeat- Becky Albertalli, Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Angst, Emails, F/F, F/M, Fluff, I'm kidding lol i owe my soul to anyone who can write good chat fics, Kinda, LEAH AND ABBY YALL AINT DISCREET, M/M, also! martin isnt in mr wise's class, aslo nick god rest his soul he is so obvious, awwwwwww, bc there is Some of that, because i don't want him to be and its also relevant, bram!! poor guy just cannot talk in front of simon, elements of loto but not like the plot or anything just like, friends being friends, get roasted, idk - Freeform, its just an english project, its kinda funny tho lol, its like a chat fic but its irl and it actually has a plot, little bits of characterizations and stuff, martin being a dick per usual, mr wise is based off my english teacher bc thats how i imagined him, not just me trying to keep him away from the Squad, oooooooh boy okay okay, simon does his best but he's not making smart choices, the squad is so amazing, these kiddos are authors uwu, they just, they quote memes and vines and its making me emotional
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:06:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overturned_Decent/pseuds/Overturned_Decent
Summary: When Mr Wise assigns his AP english class the task of writing a ten chapter fiction book in two months, Simon Spier doesn't think much of it. Until it's one AM, the first chapter is due the next day, and he has no idea what on earth to write about. In a hysteric, sleep deprived state, he decides to write a variation of his own life, focusing on the relationship he has with the mysterious boy he met over emails.And once starts, he can't stop. He stars incorporating his friends into the story, amping up the emotion and drama and including more and more details until it's hard to tell his real life from this fictional one.And to top is all off, Martin Addison decides to start blackmailing him.Wonderful.





	1. i

It was past one AM, and I still had no idea what to write. 

I had been in the gifted and talented program when I was in elementary and middle school, and all of my teachers had told me that I “definitely have the capability and determination to take AP classes when you get to highschool”. I, stupidly, did not think that taking all AP classes would be difficult. 

Freshman year was hard. I’m a junior now, and at this point it’s more of a pride thing than anything else. 

 

The assignment was to write the first chapter of a book. It was a part of our fiction unit in Mr Wise’s AP english class, and in two months, when the unit would be over, the entire class should have a ten chapter book. One chapter a week. No less than five pages. Tonight was Thursday, and tomorrow was Friday, and chapter one was due on Friday, and I had absolutely no idea what to write about. 

 

I was racking my brain. There was nothing there. For not the first time tonight, I found myself wondering if Blue could be doing the same thing. I knew that he was a junior, too, and his emails to me were always written in this really precise, grammatical sort of way, like he spent time going over them before he sent them to me. I had the strong suspicion that he might be in an AP english class as well. Mr Wise taught only one class for juniors- first period, the one I was in, obviously -but there was another teacher, Mrs Diaz who taught AP and on-level english, and I was definitely thinking too hard about this. 

I got up out of my desk chair, and started pacing. Moving around usually helps getting my brain going. The story could be written about literally anything, so why wasn’t there anything in my head? I normally don’t have too much trouble in fiction units, something about the combination of theatre and my eccentric family having made me a good storyteller, but this. This was like next level writer’s block. 

 

I picked my laptop up off my desk, and dropped onto my bed, pulling my legs underneath me. 

The screen had gone to sleep, and in the darkness, I could see my blonde hair still pulled up in a tiny ponytail (courtesy of one of my best friends, a Miss Abby Suso), my glasses (in the process of sliding off my nose. Screw oily skin and not tight enough frames), and an extremely tired expression. Sounds about right. 

 

Instead of clicking onto the google doc I had my chapter set up on, which was currently titled “noideas.jpg”, I clicked onto Skype. There was only one person who I thought might be able to pull me out of my writers block. 

 

_ \-------LIA IS ONLINE------- _

 

I pump my fist in the air, and to hide my excitement at her being awake, I type something much more in character for our friendship. 

 

Sci-fi: LEAH WHY ARE YOU AWAKE

 

Before you ask- no, I did not misspell my best friend’s name. Leah’s just weird in the sense that her Skype name will occasionally change to different spelling of her name (Lia, Leeuh, Leih, Layuh, Leeyah, etc.). Like I said, she’s just weird like that. 

 

Lia: si why r u up

Sci-fi: hahaahahah thats funny bc thats what I just asked YOU!!!!!

Lia: im doing the english thingy

Sci-fi: yeah mood

Lia: u too?   
Sci-fi: yeah, its fucking hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lia: thats a mood right there

Lia: I’m at seven pages, but I don’t know how I want to finish it oof

Sci-fi: omg

Sci-fi: i havent even started!!!!!

Lia: Simon!!!!!!! What the fuck!!!!!!!!

Lia: u do know its due tmrw right?????

Sci-fi: i am very very aware of that

Sci-fi: what are you writing about?   
Lia: my oc’s

Sci-fi: im old and i forgot what that means

Lia: my original characters

Sci-fi: LIKE THE ONES YOU DRAW!!!!

Lia: great memory, sport!

Sci-fi: die

Lia: no u

Sci-fi: moving past That,

Sci-fi: do u know how i can write things that will get me a good Not Failing grade?

Lia: well what genre were you thinking?

Sci-fi: I DONT KNOW I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT GENRES ARE I DONT AAAAAAAH

Lia: well, Sci-fi, I think that’s actually untrue

Sci-fi: touche

Lia: what kinda books do u like to read?

Sci-fi: uhhhhhhhh idek

Lia: look through your bookshelf

Sci-fi: okay lol

Sci-fi: HARRY POTTER

Lia: you cant rewrite harry potter

Sci-fi: that wasnt even what i meant. Couldnt i write smth in like that genre or whatever?

Lia: idk fantasy is really hard to write just out of the blue. It takes a lot of world building, you know?

 

I didn’t know, and I probably never would. 

 

Lia: i would suggest u just write something you know about. Like, what part of simon spier’s life could become something worthwhile?

Sci-fi: Id be more upset if i didnt actually have an idea now, so thx love u bye

Lia: byeeeeeeeee <3333333

 

And maybe I would regret this, but something about what Leah had just said had given me an idea. A possibly very stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless. I was going to write about the one part of my life that actually could be interesting to someone looking in. And I was definitely going to regret this. But in that one AM moment, it was quite literally my only option. 

  
  


\--- _ saved at: 4:23 AM _

 

Lucas was a complete mess of nerves. He wasn’t sure if it was the combination of what he was about to start, or more so the underlying tension the whole situation created, but he was almost 90% hysterical. Whatever. It was late, he was tired, and he made bad decisions when he was tired. 

 

To:  [ redyellow434@gmail.com ](mailto:redyellow434@gmail.com)

From:  [ frommywindow1@gmail.com ](mailto:frommywindow1@gmail.com)

Date: Sep 4, 3:34 AM 

Subject: hi?

 

Okay, so I may be going out on a limb here, but I think we’re very similar. I mean, you clearly have a thing for mystery, or at least adrenaline, what with posting that bit of poetry to the school message board, and the fact that I’m doing this at all is because I’m running on pure nervous energy. I’m like a car, but the gas is just my lack of sleep and my want to connect with someone. 

Because we are similar. In at least two ways: we both probably like doing things without a whole lot of thought, and we’re both gay. 

And although the school (for the moment, at least) is kind of crawling with wonder about who you are, I feel like you left your email address for a reason. Because maybe you do want to be known, despite the anonymity? I’m probably reading far too much into this.

No pressure for you to reply, or anything, but I would really appreciate having someone to be able to talk without worrying about filtering a part of myself away. 

-James

 

The reason for the fake name? Lucas wanted some anonymity too. He may have gone totally insane with emailing the kid who wrote tweet about being gay for the whole school to read, but he still wasn't ready to be out. Besides, James was the name of his older brother. They had about fifteen years between them, and even his closest friends had only seen him a few times before he…..before he got arrested. But that didn’t mean anything. It was a common name. Lucas wasn’t just using it feel closer to him or anything, no, that was absurd. 

 

He hoped that whoever ‘Red’ was, they weren’t the type of person to completely expose him for this. He hoped that at least they would reply. 

 

\------------

 

I should not be driving on two hours of sleep. Nick, my neighbor and best friend since  _ waaaayyyyy _ early childhood, was at my house at seven thirty. He knows me well enough to know when I’m dragging, and I was definitely dragging this morning. He’s good at motivation though, probably from being the JV soccer team captain last year. 

 

“Pick it up, Spier!” He yelled at me. I glared at him, which was difficult when I had a toothbrush in my mouth, but I’m sure he got the point. 

“Seriously, we gotta get going.” I spit into the sink, wiping my mouth on the yellow towel hanging by the shower. 

“We still have like, forty five minutes to get the rest of them.” 

“You’re lucky Leah takes so long to get ready.” I shrug. 

 

In a few minutes, though, we’re out the door. First is Leah, and she steps out of the house in typical Leah fashion, wearing a floral patterned dress, and black knee high socks. Nick migrates to the backseat, and Leah takes shotgun. Next closest is the coffee. Leah gets a black coffee with several caffeine shots, and I get an iced coffee, also with way too much caffeine. Nick gets an iced tea, and then recites Abby’s order from memory. Leah and I exchange a look. After that, we go get Abby, who’s sporting a pink dress with rose patterns on them, and her dark curly hair is pulled up on top of her head. Leah looks extremely annoyed that her and Abby are both wearing floral dresses, but Abby just squeals and says they have to take a picture. Leah smiles at that. Their conversation is put to a stop when Nick hands Abby her drink, and then starts to tell her about a dream that Leah and I hadn’t even known about yet. 

 

“So, what did you guys write about for that english thing?” Abby asks, once we arrive at school. We walk up to the building in a kind of mass, one that says “Yeah, we’re not like, cool or anything, but you’re still going to wish you were friends with us. Also the seniors are scary and we don’t want to be too spread out when we pass them”. 

“I just used some of my characters, since I’ve already got a story shaped out for them.” Leah answers with a shrug. Abby turns to her, excitement lighting up her face. 

“Really? Which ones?” Leah’s face turns a little pink. 

“Um, I don’t think I’ve told you about them yet, so uh,” Abby deflates. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I wrote about a town that gets attacked by aliens.” Nick announces, and Leah immediately looks at me. 

“So, you wrote sci-fi?” Neither Abby nor Nick understands why I suddenly burst out laughing. 

“Uh, yeah.” He continues, slightly confused. “The main character is this lady scientist named Marta and she’s like, sick AF.” He looks straight at Abby when he says this, but I don’t think she even noticed. God, his crush was so freaking painful to witness, especially since I don’t think she likes him back.

“That’s cool,” I say, hoping to make him feel better. “What kind of aliens?”

“Well, I mean, they’re not in the story yet. They’ll probably show up around chapter two, or three.”

“Aren’t we working on the story layout in class today?” Abby asks. Leah answers.

“Yeah, he said we should have all ten chapters planned out by Monday, so if we don’t finish today, we can have the weekend.”

Shit. How hadn’t I known that? I reminded myself that I was only using me and Blue as reference for the first chapter and then I was going to go off from there, but the draw to base the entire thing off my life was getting incredibly strong. I mean, was I supposed to just predict the future? 

 

“What did you write about, Abby?” Nick asks. 

“A peasant girl who tags along with a troop of knights pretending to just be cooking and cleaning for them, but really she wants to help them with their quest. Not sure what's gonna happen in the middle, but in the end she’s gonna save all their asses.”

“A feminist through and through.” Leah comments, grinning. Abby shrugs modestly, but I can see her eyes smiling from the comment.

“Simon, what about you?” I don’t know why I didn’t expect to see this question coming. Of course I have to talk about it. Of-fucking-course. 

“It’s not as good as any of yours’,” I say, hoping to come off like I’m not proud of it. 

Nick, who had asked the question, hits my arm. “C’mon, my story might  _ seem _ cool, but it’s legit shit. We won’t judge you, man.”

I swallow. “Well, uh, I don’t really have the plot shaped out yet. But um, it’s pretty much, like, uh….a slice of life, kind of thing? Um, it’s like, it’s just normal everyday, like, people. But they’ve got...like, they have stuff that happens to them, that like, someone might think wouldn’t ever really happen. But it does, because, uh, it happens to them?” Nick, Abby, and Leah all stare at me with intense looks of bewilderment on their faces. I’m aware that I was just horrifically vague, but I try to seem like I didn’t notice. 

“Uh.”

“Yeah, well, like I said. It’s not super shaped out. Just kind of an introductory first chapter, y’know?”

“Right…..” Leah says slowly, like she isn’t sure if it’s the right thing to say. 

 

We’ve arrived at the classroom now, and I quickly speed walk to my seat, which happens to be right behind one of Nick’s friends from the soccer team, Bram. In a class that holds literally all three of my best friends, I would have liked to sit closer to them, but it’s not that big of a deal anyway, because there’s an old, disgusting couch in the front of the room that we try to get seats on most days. 

 

“Oh no!” I cry. “Someone’s already on the couch. Sorry guys.” I shrug, keenly aware of my leg bouncing at almost hypersonic speeds. They all stare at me, before exchanging glances and slipping into their seats. I breathe a sigh of far too much relief. And then suck it right back in. Why is the class pulling out papers? Oh, fuck.

 

I slide out of my seat, face already burning. 

“Er, Mr Wise?” 

“Yes, Simon?” he asks, looking up from the paper’s that he’s grading. Mr Wise is an older guy, somewhere in his fifties, with balding hair, glasses, and a partially overweight form. He dresses in patterned button down shirts most days, and he would definitely be subject to more making fun of via his students  _ if _ he weren’t so respected. The guy was a really good teacher, sticking mostly to lecture style lessons, but he didn’t mind sharing his opinions with his students, and he would get really into the lessons he taught. He was probably my favorite teacher, right next to Ms Albright, the theatre director. 

“Were we supposed to print out the chapter?” He raises his eyebrows at me. 

“How else do you expect me to grade it?” A few kids nearby do the signature “ _ ooooooh _ ” ‘s, but I ignore them, shifting on my feet. 

“Totally unrelated question, but could I go to the computer lab to print something out for a class that isn’t yours?” Those same kids now laughed, and I could see a hint of a smile forming on Mr Wise’s face. 

“Alright. Hurry though, we’re working on layouts today.”

“Got it, thanks!” 

 

I practically sprinted out of the room, cursing myself for not reading the directions and wondering how much else I might have missed. Was it supposed to have a certain point of view? Mine was written in third limited, but we just finished our third omniscient part of the unit, and oh God, should I change it when I’m printing? No, I decide, that’ll take too long. I’m just not going to mess with it. Leave it as is. If I have to redo it, then that will just give me a chance to do something different that might not ruin all of my friendship’s. 

 

I get to the computer lab, throwing myself in front of one of the screens. There’s another class in here, Mrs Nicole’s math, I think, and I spot Martin Addison currently engaged in a conversation with Taylor Metternich. They’re two of my friends from theatre, and with auditions for this years musical coming up next week, I’m sure that’s what they’re talking about. 

 

I log in quickly, going straight to my google drive, and I click on the assignment. I scroll through it a moment, before clicking print. Then, because I’m here, and waiting for eight pages to print, I open up my gmail. My secret gmail. The one that I email Blue on.

 

Blue is….kind of amazing. Way back in the start of school, probably the first week, actually, he had posted on Creeksecrets. Creeksecrets is a tumblr account where people from our school can anonymously post things on it. It’s like a festering wound, but for gossip. Keeping with that analogy, that would mak Leah and I some sort of bacteria, because we’re both  _ obsessed _ with it. Which is why I found out right away that there was another gay person at my school. I mean, okay, there’s definitely other gay people at my school who are out. There’s a few other gay guys, who I know for a fact get some shit, and then the rest are girls of varying sexualities. Sometimes I feel like they get coming out a little easier, but then again, just the other day two sophmore girls were kissing by one of their lockers, and this group of awful guys started whistling. The girls looked mortified. I think I mostly just envy the fact that they had the confidence to come out at all, which I’m still definitely wary of doing. 

 

That’s probably why Blue is so important to me. Because he’s closeted too, and he understands, and just...everything about him is so amazing. He’s so amazing. The way we started talking is similar enough to how the “us” in my story did, except in real life, when he made the post to Creeksecrets, I made a new email and dropped it in the comments with a “THIS!!!” right next to it. He was the one to email me first, and now, a few weeks later, I consider him one of my closest friends. 

 

I just have absolutely no idea who he is. Because Blue isn’t his real name, just like how the name I sign emails with (Jacques, aka, Simon in French. I’m not  _ that _ clever) isn’t my real name. A layer of mystery shrouds him, but it almost makes it more exciting. I’m less filtered when I know he doesn’t know who I am, like I can just say anything at all. I’m pretty sure he’s the same way. It’s nice. 

 

There are no new emails from him, so I x-out of the page, and go to the printer to get my papers. I go back to class, a smile resting on my face from thinking about Blue. 

 

I’m still smiling when I walk back into class. Everyone has computers, so I get one from the cart. 

“I’ll take your papers,” Mr Wise says, and I nod, handing them to him. He scribbles my name in the top right corner, before stapling them all together. “Bram?” he says, and Bram jolts, looking up. “Can you explain the directions to Simon?” 

Bram blanches a second, before nodding. He seems nice, honestly, but it’s just so hard for me to get close to shy people. I’m an extrovert at heart, and I love talking to people, but the few times I’ve tried starting a conversation with him, it’s been like talking to a brick wall. I’ve maybe heard him say five words since he first moved here before ninth grade. (an overreaction, but still, you get the point.)

 

I sit back down in my seat, opening up the chunky laptop. Bram turns around in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with this arrangement. I have to stop myself from looking annoyed, like, seriously? It’s not that big of a deal. 

 

“So, the directions?” I prompt. He blinks, shaking his his head slightly. 

“Right. Yeah, uh. So, um, you just like, make a new document, and uh, he wants it set up the way he has it on the board. You just are supposed to, uh, fill in the general basis of each chapter.” I nod, trying to follow what he’s saying amid the mumbling and “uh” ‘s. 

“When’s it due?” 

“Well, uh, it’s not like, technically due. He wants it completed by Monday, but we just have to share it with him. We can edit and rewrite parts of it as much as we want, and it can change as needed, he just wants us to have a general idea of where our story is going to go.”

“Oh, cool.” THANK GOD. “It’s gonna suck though, the entirety of my first chapter was written between one and four AM last night, so if I keep up that trend, this whole book is gonna be incomprehensible.” 

Bram laughs, subtly covering his mouth with his hand. It’s a nice laugh, and I kind of want to hear it again. The rest of the class are talking anyway, and Mr Wise doesn’t seem to care that they are, so I decide to keep Bram here a bit longer. 

 

“I have no clue where I even want the story to go, like, the end is gonna be just as much a surprise to the imaginary reader as it will be to me.” And Bram laughs again. I feel my face flush slightly, and I really don’t want to stop taking to him. Or at him. He’s still not really saying all that much.

“I uh, wrote my whole chapter like, the day after we were told to, and I just sort of put it in my homework folder and uh, refused to look at it until last night. I had already forgotten the, uh, the main character's name.” I laugh, then add: 

“That’s me, but like, if I was productive.” We both laugh, and I kind of want to scream. Why doesn’t he ever talk to me? He’s actually  _ so _ funny, and I’m starting to worry that he might dislike me, and that’s why we never talk. 

“What’s your story on, anyway?” 

“Ah,” he says sheepishly. “It’s kind of embarrassing, actually. It’s, uh, about a superhero? I dunno, it was the only, uh, idea that I had.” he laughs nervously at the end. 

“Oh, sweet. Superheroes are cool.” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “I definitely agree.” He sounds completely serious as he says that, and something about it catches me off guard, earning an actual laugh from me. Always the dramatic theatre kid I am, I cover my face with both of my hands, laughing. When I look back at him, he’s blushing, his brown skin deepened in a sort of rosy color. 

“I don’t know why that was so funny to me.” He shrugs, an almost playful glint in his eyes. 

“I guess I’m just, uh, naturally comical?”

“I guess so.” I grin. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I pull it out. It’s a text from Abby. 

 

From Abbo/ 9:01 AM

I didn’t know u n bram were friends

 

I look up at her, and she’s got her eyebrows raised up at me. I roll my eyes. 

 

To Abbo/ 9:01 AM

I dont really talk to him that much, we were just talking about the directions

 

I look at her again, and she’s peering down at her phone. She looks up at me, gives me an unimpressed look, then types something else. 

 

From Abbo/ 9:01 AM

Uh huh. That was an awful lot of laughing for a boring english project. 

 

“Abby, phone.” Mr Wise suddenly says, and she blushes. 

“Sorry, I was just checking a note I’d made in my phone about the story. 

 

To Abbp/ 9:01 AM

LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR L

 

“Alright, keep doing your work though.”

“Okay, thanks.”

 

From Abbo/ 9:02 AM

Ur a lil bitch boy

 

To Abbo/ 9:02 AM

;*

 

When I pull away from my phone, I see that Bram has already turned back to his work. I try not to feel disappointed. 

 

It doesn’t work. 

 

I start on the assignment, not looking at the back of his head for the rest of class. Or at least, trying not to.

 

It doesn’t work. 


	2. ii

“No, no, but like, Abby, what if you  _ had _ to pick a fursona?”

She shakes her head. “Impossible, I would never get into a situation where I had to do that.”

“But what if you  _ did _ ?” I continued to press. “What if, for whatever reason, you’d been kidnapped-”

“Oh God,” Says Leah.

“-and they’re like, holding a gun to your head and-”

“Oh God!” Leah says again, this time, though, she sounds more distressed.

“-they’re all like,” I slide out of the booth, standing in the isle between our table and a (thankfully) unoccupied table. I readjust my stance so that I look old, and wave my hand around like I’m holding a gun. “  _ shrrrrr Abby Suso…….picka fuuuurrrrrrrsona. Er else’  _ Like what would you say if that happened?” I drop it easily, and the fact that I do that so quickly pushes Nick over the edge, and he drops his face to the table, shoulders shaking. Abby and Leah, who are on the same side of the table, exchange a look. 

“Firstly,” Abby says. “Sit down.” 

“Yeah, okay.” I sit back down next to Nick, and still trembling with the effort of trying to control his laughter. 

“Secondly, if I was kidnapped and held at gunpoint,” She raises an eyebrow and looks at me. “And my kidnapper was either going to shoot me or have me assign myself a fursona, I would tell them to just shoot me.” Three things happen at the exact moment she says this; one: Nick bursts into a second wild and uncontainable fit of laughter; Leah snickers and highfives Abby; I groan overdramatically, and throw my head back so that it hits the uncousined part of the booth, prompting an “ow!” out of me. Abby folds her hands across the table, looking very pleased with herself. 

“That is so cheating.” I grumble. She shrugs. I glare at her. 

“It’s okay, Si,” Leah smiles, and reaches across the table to put her hand over mine. “You already got that Nick’s possible fursona is a tiger, so it wasn’t a total..” Her lips twist into a cruel smirk. “..loss.”

“DIE.” I shriek at her, retracting my hand and allowing her wrist to fall into the leftover puddle of maple syrup from my mostly finished plate of waffles. 

 

It’s moments like these that become ingrained in my head forever. There’s a select category of memories I have that I call “Fond Memories” for the plain and simple fact that they’re just happy moments in time. Sometimes when I’m feeling sad or moody for no reason, I think back to them and they give me just this tiny moment of “oh yeah”. I’ll sort of smile, and I’ll just feel…..nice. 

 

Then Nick makes it awkward by letting his stupid crush flare up again.

 

“I think I might go get something else to eat, anyone want to come with?” 

“The counter’s twenty feet away.” Leah points out. Abby laughs. Nick grins like he caused it. 

“Still. Anyone?” No one says anything. He’s looking very specifically at Abby. I almost physically cringe. 

“Hey, Abby. Come with me?” This time I actually do cringe, and Leah gives me a look. Abby glances up at Nick from her phone. 

“Ugh, do I have to?” She’s on the isle seat, across from me. Both Leah and Nick are on the inside, next to the wall and the window, which is completely dark. I hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten. I also had not realized that if Nick seriously did want to get up and get food, then I would have to get up first. That was kind of annoying, since he probably just wanted food so that he would have an excuse to talk to Abby one on one, even if for just a few minutes. 

“Pleeeaaaaaseeee?” He begged, pouting at her. She rolled her eyes, but grinned at him, getting up. Leah started typing onto her phone. 

“Simon?” 

 

I roll my eyes, but get out of the seat, moving aside to let Nick up. It’s that moment that I make eye contact with someone across the room. Martin Addison. He’s sitting with one or two other people I don’t know at a table, and he meets my eyes and then just holds it. Then he gets this sort of smirk on his face, and breaks the eye contact, leaning across the table to say something to his friends. I look away, weirdly creeped out. How long has he been here? I swear I never saw him come in. I’m sort of on edge now, for some reason, and I sit down, almost nervous. Leah notices instantly. 

 

“Simon? You good?”

“You’ll never guess who I just saw.” Now that I’ve noticed him, it’s impossible to not. His table is right in my line of sight, which is going to make looking at Abby a pain. I shift my whole body so that I’m fully facing Leah. 

“Who?”

“Martin Addison.”

“Your theatre friend?”

“I guess. We’re not really friends, but yeah.”

“Oh cool.” She picks up a fry off Nick’s plate. “Did you wanna go say something to him?” I quickly shake my head. 

“No, it was just really weird. I think he noticed me the same time I noticed him, and like..he held eye contact for an uncomfortably long time.”

“Hm,” Now Leah herself looked slightly uneased. “Between you and me,” I nod. “I’ve always found him a little, I dunno, weird? Like he just weirds me out. I don’t know.”

“No, I get what you mean. He’s a little creepy.”

“Right?” She nods enthusiastically. “He always says these weird things about girls, and like some of the jokes he’s made are just cringy, and gross, and just- ugh. He’s weird.”

“I totally agree.” I tell her. 

“Though it is shitty that people make fun of him and stuff.” 

“Yeah, it’s totally shitty.”

“Totally.” We make eye contact for a split second, then burst out laughing. 

 

Abby slides into the booth next to Leah. “Whatcha talkin’ about?” Leah takes a sip of her coke and when she speaks it sounds muffled. 

“Spillin’ tea.”

“As you should.” Abby nods. Nick clears his throat. He got a soda. I glare at him, and he shrugs in response. Bro code for: “what was I  _ supposed _ to do?! She’s hot.” Sadly, I am indeed very fluent in bro code. That’s the price you pay for being in the closet. 

 

We leave around ten, swarming out the doors in loud voices and laughter. It hasn’t gotten cold yet, and the warm humidity of the night sinks into my skin.

 

“I can’t believe I actually  _ did something _ for once on a Friday night.” I comment. Parking lots at night have always felt comforting to me. They have this energy that makes you feel like nothing else really exists in that moment. Like it’s just you, your three best friends, and a half deserted parking lot. 

“I know!” I wonder if Abby feels the same way, because she suddenly gets a rush of energy and dances across the street, gesturing wildly as she talks. “It’s like: WHOOOOOO TEENAGE YEARS, LIVE IT  _ UP _ !” Nick and Leah both chuckle, and I’m a little tempted to join her in the dance. She keeps throwing her arms out and jerking her head around. We stop at my car, and I don’t want to have to tell Abby to stop. Luckily, I’m saved from that choice by Leah. Abby doesn’t look bothered; she just grins. 

 

The drive back is equally as amazing. Nick is in the passenger seat, and Leah and Abby have taken over the back seat. Abby isn’t wearing a seatbelt, and her head is in Leah’s lap. 

At one point, Leah and had I collaborated in making an “Iconic Playlist The Whole Squad Can Jam Out To”, filled with what we’re pretty sure our entire friend group would enjoy, and that gets plugged into the aux. A mix of early 2000’s nostalgia (Abby), artists no one has heard of (Leah and me), musical theatre (Abby and me) and Alternative-New-Wave-Synth-Electro-Pop-Chillhop-Beats (fucking  _ Nick _ ) plays throughout the car ride. This is the first time it’s been played in front of more than just it’s creators, and I’m thrilled at how well it’s being received. 

 

Leah and Abby are dropped off together at Abby’s house, they’re having a sleepover again. At some point while driving to mine and Nick’s neighborhood, Abby has started spamming one of our Instagram group chats with short clips of her and Leah cackling over jokes that Nick finds hilarious, but that I can’t quite hear, so the humor is lost on me. 

 

When Nick and I finally separate at our respective houses (complete with a stupid wave at each other from our porches), the night feels officially over. 

 

I slip up the stairs and into my room, collapsing onto my bed, thoroughly exhausted. Then, I abruptly sit up, suddenly drenched in a cold sweat. For the very first time, I realize that I’ve turned in a story with a gay main character to my english teacher. 

 

“Fuck.” I say out loud. In my rush to think of something, I hadn’t even acknowledged that I would be practically outing myself to Mr Wise. Oh God. Oh God. I jump up and start pacing. All the warm, happy feelings I’d had are now a thing of the past. I can’t even find it in myself to think about that, though, because I’ve just OUTED MYSELF TO MR. WISE. Okay. Okay! So, this- this is going to be fine, right? Yeah, definitely. It’ll be totally fine. 

I’m being completely irrational. 

 

I feel like I’m going to throw up. 

 

I’m pretty sure there’s only one person who could help me right now, and God, I hope he’s not busy enough to not answer me right away. 

 

From: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

To:  [ bluegreen118@gmail.com ](mailto:bluegreen118@gmail.com)

Date: 10:07, 25 September

Subject: mistakes have been made

 

Hey Blue. So, it’s kind of a really, really funny story: I think I may have outed myself to someone! It’s actually not funny at all. I’m completely freaking out. It was a really careless slip up, but it happened during school, and so I won’t know what they have to say about it until Monday. Any kind of wise knowledge you can bestow upon me in these trying times?

 

-Jacques

 

I slammed the laptop shut as soon as it delivered, and then leaned back in my chair. Breathing deeply, I try to get a handle on my emotions, which are currently hopping around like crazed rabbits. I need to distract myself. I need to think about something else. 

 

The solution is to, of course, think about Blue. That doesn’t give me much relief, because that directs my thoughts to “Red” and ‘Lucas’ and Mr Wise and how I’m being creepy and invasive and out. I stand up and pace, but then sit down immediately again. I wish that I had Blue’s phone number, or some sort of social media account that I could message him on and get a faster response. This just really, really sucked. I pried the screen up, refreshing the page, but there was no response. There were a couple other tabs open, and one in particular caught my eye. 

 

“ _ English story project t… _ ” was all that was visible in the tab. I swallowed. This freaking assignment was the problem. I wanted nothing less than to ever have to write it again. 

 

I open the tab and start typing right where I had left off. 

 

_ \---Saved at 11:25 PM _

 

Lucas still hadn’t gotten a reply. He wondered if maybe Red was afraid to respond. Or maybe he hadn’t even wanted anyone to try to talk to him about the tweet. These and far too many other equally mortifying thoughts swirled around in Lucas’s head as he waited at the bus stop. Thank God he had used his secret email account. He couldn’t imagine how horrible it would have been if he had sent it with his personal one, AKA the one with his full name in the address. That would have actually been pretty terrible. 

 

He drifts through his classes, only half aware of what his teachers are saying. Jordan Ross smiles at him in the hallway on the way to lunch, and Lucas nearly freezes in his tracks. He gives the other boy a shaky smile, before ducking his head and sprinting the rest of the way to the cafeteria. He’s had a ‘sort of crush’ on Jordan since the year before, when they were assigned a project to work on together in history. Jordan had kept making jokes the entire time, and he was just…. _ so funny.  _ And cute. And nice. 

 

Lucas physically shook his head to clear the growing blush from his cheeks. He didn’t need to think about Jordan right now. Not when Red might be a variable. That was still going on. 

 

He drops into a seat across from his best friend Cody, who he’s known since they were three. Immediately, Lucas pulls out his phone. No notifications, much less one from some mystery gay boy at his school. He sighs, and tries to focus on the words coming out of Cody’s mouth.

 

It all just sounds like white noise. 

 

\------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now what could Possibly be going on with Martin?
> 
> also lol I'm Sorry that i took so long to get this chapter out out. my excuse is that i wrote it. hated it. deleted it. and I've been rewriting it much more slowly. so hopefully ill get chapters out faster.


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy pre-america day????????

The weekend seems to have gone by in a blink. I spend much of Saturday back and forth emailing with Blue, who had responded by the time I woke up. He did give me some good advice, though I had been just a tad bit too vague, and so none of it really helped alleviate my worries. 

Sunday I used to do homework. There’s a huge algebra packet due by Wednesday, and I’m only on page seven of twenty. It’s going to be hard next couple of days, but it may just be the perfect distraction from my possible outing. I write only a tiny bit more of English Story Project Thingy, not feeling the same level of interest I had felt on Friday. I manage to beat my outline into shape, though, and now it looks like this:

 

1: introduction to story line

2: introduction to protagonists friends

3: red responds, he and Lucas begin talking

4: enter some sort of conflict. Lucas has some sort of ongoing issue with someone in his life outside the emails, probably one of his friends

5: email relationship progresses, conflict progresses

6: same as five

7: same as five

8: conflict resolved

9: Identities are revealed

10: Fun epilogue type ending. Just seeing where they’re at maybe a couple of months later. 

 

It’s probably not what Mr Wise was hoping for, but he can’t really expect too much from me. I’m just barely getting by in his class as is. Too much internet grammar for me, I suppose. 

 

At seven thirty, Nick is in my room. He’s lying horizontally across my bed, scrolling through Twitter, I think. I’m positioned in front of the mirror hung o my closet door, combing through the knots in my hair. I had been in the shower less than twenty minutes ago, and my hair was still wet; the comb flicking droplets of water onto my shoulders and face every time I ripped it through. I really don’t take care of my hair, but how else would I maintain my signature bed head look? I’m momentarily distracted by Nick barking out a sudden laugh. I glance at him, as he rolls from his back to his stomach, propping himself up with his elbows. 

 

“Si, look at this.” I abandon the comb on the floor of my closet, and drop onto my bed beside him. It’s a tweet made by an account called @creekwoodtea. Funny, I had thought the Tumblr was the only gossip social media our school had. I make a mental note to ask Leah if she follows the account. 

 

The tweet itself reads: “If the soccer team was any sloppier with their passes, we would be the Creekwood Beers, bc of how drunk we always look. I’m on the team, but def shading y’all”

 

I whistle. “They just dragged the shit out of y’all.”

“I know right, God. This is gonna cause drama during practice today.” 

“Any idea who could have written it?”

Nick narrows his eyes. “I’ve got an idea. I’ll have to ask Garrett about it later?”

I inhale sharply. “You think Garrett did it?” Garrett had always seemed nice to me, albeit a little douchey, but still nice. He definitely didn’t seem the type to be rude about his own team on a public school social media. I must have misinterpreted Nick, though, because he quickly shakes his head. 

“No, but he’s better friends with Trainer than I am, so he might know something.”

“Devin Trainer?”

“Yeah, he’s always making drama for no reason.”

“The tweet’s kinda funny, though.” I reason, but I can still see Nick getting a little more annoyed each moment he spends thinking about it. 

“I guess, but now I’m kinda pissed. If people think we’re bad, they won’t come to our games, and then we’ll get less funding in the future, which is really shitty.”

“Oh, I guess that is shitty, then.”

“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “The team is gonna be pissed. I’m gonna text them and see if they've seen it yet.” I watch him exit Twitter and open up iMessage, and scroll until he finds the group chat he’s looking for. It’s title is just a bunch of soccer ball emoji’s, and I feel a flash of pride that our group chats have way more creative (not to mention, funnier) names than that. 

We leave not too long later, and after picking up Leah, we stop at  _ Dancing Goats _ for our coffee’s, as is our tradition. Leah and I’s orders stay the same they’ve been all year, Nick’s, however, changes to be exactly the same as Abby’s. They giggle about this when we pick her up about ten minutes later. 

We stop at each other’s lockers as a group, and I’m so busy talking to them that I don’t even notice Martin Addison trying to catch my eye in the hallway. 

We arrive at Mr Wise’s class a little earlier than normal, so we all manage to squeeze onto the couch, in order from left to right: Me, Leah, Abby, and Nick. I’m volunteered by everyone but me to get computers for the four of us, and I drop my backpack onto the floor by my feet and stalk across the room to the computer cart in mock-irritation, stopping only when I notice that Bram is looking at me from across the room. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he gives me a sort of half-smile, which I return, as well as a wave. If he’s going to be friendly, then I will too. There’s, like, nothing I love more than talking to people and making friends. 

 

I begin piling four computers into my arms, annoyed at how my lack of upper body strength is making it harder than it should be. I look pointedly at Leah, pouting, and she rolls her eyes in response. 

 

“You’re such a baby,” she comments as I pass the laptops out. 

“Wow, rude.” I bite back a laugh, sticking my tongue out at her so that she knows how serious this is. She just rolls her eyes again. 

 

Class starts a few minutes later, and pretty quickly Abby and Leah have gotten engaged in a very animated conversation, chalk full of inside jokes that I really don’t understand at all.

 

“Okay, but what if when the knight people have their festival thingy-”

“It’s not a festival,” Abby says, then she and Leah make eye contact and Leah whispers, “ _ It’s a civil disagreement. _ ” They both have to cover their mouths to keep from laughing too loudly. I glance at Nick from behind their shoulders, and he shrugs back at me. 

 

I am kind of glad that they’re so focused on each other, because with no one behind me, I can lean up against the side of the couch and type without worrying that someone will read over my shoulder. Though, despite that perfect set up, I’m not actually doing a whole lot of typing. Every so often I glance up at Mr Wise, wondering exactly how much he’s started assuming about me from what he’s read. What if he’s homophobic and makes me redo it? What if he’s homophobic and outs me to the class? What if he’s homophobic and decides he’s going to make the rest of my junior year a living hell by failing me and calling me out in class and being rude and expelling me and making sure that I never graduate and become a senior, sticking me in his class to be tortured for the rest of my natural life?

 

I’m getting a little bit ahead of myself. If I’m totally honest, I don’t think he’s even looked at me once all class, which could be good or bad. I’m hoping for good. 

 

About twenty minutes into class, he starts calling people up to his desk, and we all quickly realize that he’s giving us feedback. I swallow the lump in my throat, and try to look busy. Maybe he’ll forget I exist and will never call on me again for the rest of the year. 

 

Unfortunately, Mr Wise does call me up to talk to him about ten minutes before the bell rings, and I try not to just bolt out of the classroom right then and there. Instead, I get up from the couch, making sure the computer screen is tightly shut, and hesitantly walk up towards Mr Wise’s desk. He’s sitting at one of the school issued desks for students, and has a second one pulled up next to him, every inch of both are covered with papers. 

 

“Alright, there are a few things I want you to fix. One, you’re using far too many sentence fragments. I understand if they’re in there to show the thought process that your character, er-” He glances at me. 

“Um. Lucas.”

“Right. If you’re using them to show Lucas’ thought process, then that’s one thing, but if you’re just doing it because you can’t help it, then we need to work on fixing it.”

“Uh, I mean, I guess it’s kind of...both?”

“Try to be more tasteful and specific about where you use them, then. I’m also a little worried about how much plot you’ve introduced in just the first chapter. When you’re writing, make sure what you include is actually important to the plot. We don’t need random details floating around that will only work to confuse the reader.”

“Okay,” I say, blinking.

“Great job, though. I’m intrigued to see where you take this.”

“Thanks?” I start to creep backwards, but he draws me back again

“Before you go, Simon,” I pause, swallowing. “What do you have for second period?”

“Um, history?”

“Do you think you’d be alright to miss the first bit of class? I’d like to talk to you for a couple minutes then, since it’s my off period.” Oh God. Ohhhhhhhh God.

“Um, okay. I think I’ll be, uh, fine.” 

“Great. And don’t worry yourself too much, you’re not in trouble or anything. You may get back to work now.” He dismisses me

 

I nod, and go back to the couch, internally stressing over every bit of the conversation. He obviously wants to talk about the gay thing, probably knows that I’m gay, and I kind of want to rip my skin off. 

 

Leah notices. Of course she does, because Leah can read me better than literally anyone else on the planet. 

 

“Uh oh. Did he roast the crap out of you?”

“Uh,” I say, mentally blanking on how to respond. Telling to much would probably end with me coming out, which…..I did want to do. Eventually. Not right now, though, and definitely not without any planning beforehand. “Yeah. He totally wrecked me.”

“Really?” Abby’s paying attention now, so Nick also begins listening.

“No,” I laugh, hoping it conceals my nerves. “He just gave me a couple of things to fix.”

“Oh, good.” Abby says, smiling. 

 

Only about half the class has been called up, and I’m the only one of my friends to have been. While I’m relieved about not having to stress out about it, I do have a new worry. 

 

Once the bell rings, I make an excuse about having to ask Mr Wise a question, and to not wait up. I step back into the classroom. A couple other people are still inside, including Bram, who’s putting away some papers into a red folder, and Garrett, another one of Nick’s friends from soccer, who’s standing by his desk, venting loudly about the post on Twitter that Nick showed me, and I try to draw as little attention as I can. I stop at Mr Wise’s desk, and subtly clear my throat. 

 

“Why don’t we wait for the rest of the class to leave first.” He say without looking up from the paper he’s currently soaking in red pen. I feel sorry for whatever poor soul it is. 

“Okay,” I say, and drop into a chair near him. 

 

“See you at lunch, Spier!” Garrett calls, and I jump, giving them both a quick wave as they leave class. 

 

The room is empty now. My palms are starting to get a bit sweaty. 

 

“I wanted to speak with you about your story.”

“O-okay..” I say, looking at the space on the wall behind him. 

“I was a little bit shocked at first, when I read it.” He laughs quietly. “I wasn’t really expecting any of you to attempt something so….out there.”

“Oh,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. 

“I think it was very mature of you, Simon. Not to mention brave, of course.”

“Really?” I look up, eyes widening. 

“Really. Can I ask..were you, by any chance, writing from experience?”

“What?! No, I mean, that whole email thing, that was all totally made up, like, it’s not rea, at all!” I rush out. There’s  _ no way _ he could have figured it all out….right? Right. Impossible.

Mr Wise’s eyes narrow. “I was referring to the gay protagonist, Simon.”

“Oh. Yeah, duh.” I laugh, but I can feel my pulse bouncing around like a basketball. I shift my posture so that my arms are crossed over the desk, and my shoulder sink down a little. “Uhh…”

Mr Wise’s features soften a little. “Oh, Simon. Does anyone know?”

I jerkily shake my head no. This isn’t actually happening, is it? I didn’t  _ actually _ just come out to my english teacher, did I?

He nods. “I admire your bravery in writing that, and in telling me. I’m sure it was very difficult for you.” He lowers his voice. “My twin brother didn’t come out to my family until well after college, though we did become much closer after that, so if you ever need anyone to go to, if there are problems at home, or at school, you can come to me. I’m sure it’s not easy for you, given our states current….political opinion, but don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.”

My eyes are burning, and I blink them rapidly while I nod in response. “Thanks,” I manage. 

He nods back at me. “I’ll write you up a pass.”

 

And then I leave, walking down the deserted hallway to my next class. 

 

None of that felt real. I’m not convinced it actually happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we STAN a supportive lgbt ally teacher in this household


	4. iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the alligator strikes

After school, Abby and I hang out at my house to go over our auditions for Tuesday. She told me that she had never done theatre back in D.C. and I do my best to tell her that she’ll be fine. I was pretty sure Ms Albright had mentioned in class that she was supposed to cast everyone who auditioned, so I at least knew we’d both be getting in. 

 

I ended up working on homework until about 1 AM, and I’m left with only about three pages left of my algebra packet by the time I finally do decide to go to bed. 

 

Then, the daily routine begins again. 

 

“Morning,” Nick says, as he enters my room, dropping his backpack onto the floor and then launching himself onto my bed. 

“Morning.” I respond, digging through my closet. I’m only half dressed, and despite the fact that Ms Albright has had me in her classes since freshman year, I still like to look extra put together on audition days. 

“So, you know how yesterday I was gonna talk to the team about that one tweet, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, turning around to face him. “And I meant to ask, is that like a new account? I’d never heard of it until you showed me yesterday.”

He nods. “I think it was just made this year. It’s pretty much just like the Tumblr, expect instead of weird poetry and emo crap, this thing is just  _ teeming _ with gossip.”

I make a face. “Ugh. Like, mean gossip? Or just regular gossip. ”

“I mean,” Nick shrugs. “You saw the thing that someone wrote about their own teammates.”

Groaning, I continue leafing through the hangers. “I hate mean gossip.”

“We’re in highschool, I think it’s kind of unavoidable.” 

“Ha.” 

 

I pick up a dark gray t-shirt with some faded white writing on it. It looks fine, I guess. Fine enough. 

“What were you saying about the talking to your team? Sorry, I got us off topic.” I say as I pull the shirt on over my head, and then attempt to re-flatten my hair. No luck. 

“No worries. Basically, there was hella locker room talk. I was talking to Garrett about it, and he said he was  _ soooo _ pissed. The team is like his fuckin’ life. I think he might report it to Coach West.”

“Won’t that make people mad at him?” I drop onto the bed next to Nick and start pulling on my socks.

“Probably,” Nick bites at his lower lip. “I’m low key worried. Like, overall, our team is pretty laid back. Most of us have been playing since we were in ninth grade and we’ve all got each others backs. But some of those guys can be pretty vicious. Normally Gar, Bram and I are all anti-drama, but Garrett’s just…..really pissed.”

“Yikes.” I grab my phone off my nightstand, opening up Twitter. “What was the name of the account?”

“ ‘Creekwoodtea’, I think. You can just check my follows.”

“Thanks.” I find it and hit the follow button, scrolling down a few posts to check it out. “Alright, I’m gonna brush my teeth, then I’ll be ready.”

“Cool.” 

 

Abby is incredibly nervous when we pick her up. She won’t stop jittering her leg, and she keeps asking me about auditions. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen her this on edge. 

“I’m sure you’ll be decent.” Leah says, and I glare at her. She has at least enough dignity to look slightly offended. “What? I’ve heard her audition songs like a hundred times, she’ll be fine.”

“You guys have been hanging out?” Nick asks from the backseat with Abby, and I immediately want to smack him.

“Yes…?” Leah says, frowning from the rearview mirror. 

“Have you been living under a rock?” Abby asks, elbowing him with a laugh. 

“Nick. Seriously?” I laugh. 

“Sorry!” Nick raises his hands in a surrender. . “I just didn’t know, I guess.”

 

Nick’s the only one still working on his coffee when we get to school, and so he has to throw it away before we go inside. 

“I’m so ready for Halloween.” Abby announces while I’m putting things in my locker. I shut it, and glance at her. 

“Halloween isn’t for, like, a month, Abby.”

“No, I know, but Leah and I want to do matching costumes, so we’ve been planning for awhile and I’m just  _ so. Ready. _ ” Leah laughs, blushing again. We stop at Abby’s locker next.

“What are you guys going as?” Nick asks, and Abby reemerges from her locker to answer. 

“We’re going as characters from this show Leah’s been getting me into, uh…” She looks at Leah, who supplies the name. 

“Everything Sucks. It’s on Netflix.” I haven’t heard of it before. Scripted TV isn’t really my thing. In fact, the only scripted shows I actually watch are all on Cartoon Network and made for ten year olds. 

“Yeah, that.” They both laugh. Nick and I exchange looks again. When we get to Mr Wise’s room, Garrett, Bram, and two other guys that I think are also on the soccer team have the couch. There’s no teacher in the room, so Abby drags the four of us over to her desk. I try to sit on top of a desk, but then feel awkward, so I stand up again and hope that no one saw. 

 

“Where’s Mr Wise?” Leah asks. Nick and I both shrug at the exact same moment. Abby sees and laughs. Nick grins wildly. I roll my eyes at Leah, but she’s not looking at me. She’s also looking at Abby. And she’s blushing. 

 

I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling a little confused and put out. For awhile, Leah had this really obvious crush on Nick, and he was totally oblivious. Similar to Nick’s current crush these days on Abby. And it might be the gayer part of my brain just projecting, but now I’m starting to wonder...if maybe...Leah might have a thing for  _ Abby _ . 

 

Which would be bad. Not because they’re both girls, obviously, but because of Nick. God, I don’t even want to think about it. I only like drama when I’m not involved. 

 

I glance over my shoulder at the couch, and immediately make eye contact with Bram, who I’m pretty sure was already looking at me, or at least in my direction. He sort of flinches as soon as I look at him, and furrow my brow. 

 

_ ‘You good?’ _ I mouth, smiling a little. He smiles back, although it is an incredibly uncomfortable smile, and gives me a thumbs up. I laugh quietly, and turn back to my friends. 

 

Mr Wise enters the room a mere seconds after the bell rings, and we all quickly scramble into our seats.

 

“Go on and get laptops. I’ll be talking to the rest of you about your stories today.” Nick catches onto my arm as I pass him and he asks me to get him a laptop as well. I roll my eyes, but comply, and set it on his desk on my way back. 

 

I haven’t actually written any of my story in class, and I feel suddenly very self conscious of all the people sitting behind me (I’m in the second to last row, so that would be one, and then the four people to my left and right). I leave the tab open, but don’t write. My leg bounces anxiously, and I glance around. No one is even looking at me. God, this is the worst. Why did I write about this? I could have written literally anything else. 

 

I click open my planning document, and read it over again. And again, and again, and again. No one is up at Mr Wise’s desk for the moment, so I close the screen and walk up to him Mr Wise. 

 

“Uh,” I clear my throat and he glances up, expression softening just a touch. I’m assuming because of our conversation from yesterday. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“You  _ may _ .” He lowers his voice, continuing. “Could this be about your story?”  I suddenly want to  _ rip _ my hair out. 

 

I do a sort of half-assed shrug. 

 

He nods. I think he gets it, which is actually kind of nice. Sure, he doesn’t know that I’m literally copying and pasting my life into a Google document, but it is cool having someone that I know at school….know all that. Kind of comforting, in a way. 

 

I leave the classroom, jogging to the bathroom. I’m washing my hands, when Martin Addison walks in. 

“Yo, Spier-mint!” He greets. I have to hand it to him: Spier-mint is a new one. I nod back, and after several seconds of silence, it becomes clear to me that he was trying to initiate a conversation. 

“Hey, Martin.”

“This is so funny, I was actually hoping to run into you.” I furrow my brow.

“You were?”

“Yeah, I would have told you sooner, but I lack the number belonging to a certain cellular device in your possession, so I could not.” He crosses over to me, and elbows me sharply. I wince. “We need to change that by the way. Give me your deets at auditions after school tomorrow.” I nod uncertainty. I haven’t moved from the sink, and the automatic water starts up again, dousing my already wet hands. 

He leans against the tiled wall of the bathroom. “Something happened on Friday. It’s actually a pretty funny story.”

“Okay,” The water cuts out again. There’s a beat of dead silence, then the water starts up for a third time. I feel frozen. I’m getting a weird vibe from Martin right now. I couldn’t agree with Leah calling him creepy more than this exact moment. 

“I saw you in the computer lab Friday.” Everything he’s saying sounds like the opening line to several separate conversations, and it’s leaving me very unsettled. This whole conversation is leaving me unsettled. 

“Okay?”

“Well, when my class was leaving, I offered to make sure all the computers were off.” He pauses, and locks eyes with me. Gives me a wry smile. “You didn’t turn yours off.” 

 

When I was eight, I watched a nature documentary with my older sister, Alice, and my mom. The documentary was on the this group of deer. There was three babies, and several adults. At one point, the music started getting sinister and disturbing. At age eight, I didn’t have the knowledge that this meant something bad was going to happen to one of the deers, but even without knowing that, I still cuddled a little closer to my sister, tensed up a little. One of the baby deers was with its mom, drinking some water from a lake. More instruments were added to the music, and it was getting louder and louder, and faster and faster. I had no idea what was going on, but my stomach suddenly felt a little sick. Enter: alligator. I knew what was going on now, but it still happened to fast. One moment the baby deer was leaning down to take a sip, and the next a gory spray of blood splattered onto the peaty sand at the water’s edge. 

I cried for thirty minutes after that, and no amount of consoling from my parents or sisters did anything to hide the fact that that baby deer had just been ripped to shreds.

 

That’s kind of what this conversation with Martin is like. I feel like the music is picking up more and more, and I might’ve just gotten my first glimpse of the alligator. I’m going to take sip from the lake anyway though, because I still don’t know for sure where it’s going. Maybe the alligator will tell me that it supports me and it’s secret is safe with it, that I have no reason to worry. But the music is still getting louder, and Martin still has that stupid fucking smile on his face, so probably not. 

 

“Oops. My bad.” I say. 

“Yeah.” He un-crosses his arms. “I won’t show anyone though, don’t worry.” 

 

I’m standing there like a fucking idiot. My hands still dangling over the sink, dripping with water. I say, “Show anyone what?” But I already know. I already freaking know.

“The emails.” he says, smugly. “And the story. Mr Wise’s class right? It’s kinda fucked that you’re using yours and that guys private conversations for a project, but I mean, whatever.”

 

I have the sudden urge to strangle him. I feel numb everywhere. I don’t think I’d even be able to lift my arms to strangle him. 

 

“Are you say-” My voice cuts out, and I swallow, trying again. I sound strained, like all of my vocal chords are being stretched thin to get this out. “Are you saying that you took screenshots of my fucking emails?”

“And the story,” He has the audacity to point out. “Can’t forget about that.”

“No, we can’t.” I hiss. My limbs suddenly regain their feelings again, and I shift my feet, dropping my hands to my sides, clenching them into fists. “Could you maybe explain why exactly you fucking did that?”

“Woah, Spier. Calm down. It’s not that big a deal. I just think we can help each other out, ya know?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re friends with Abby Suso, right?”

“Yes, but what does that-” Then, I get it. And the alligator's jaws have closed around my neck, and I’m being dragged underwater. 


	5. v

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every single morning I drink an entire gallon of Good Friendship Juice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol idk why it took me so long to get this chapter out. i start school in likeeee two??? days so I'm kinda just everywhere mentally atm lmao. ok have fun enjoy this

When I finally get home from auditions around five PM, all I want to do is cry. It has been  _ such _ a long day, and I am  _ so _ over literally everyone.The conversation I had with Martin keeps floating around my mind, stealing all of my attention at every moment of the day. It doesn’t even seem real. I’m having a really hard time believing that it is. Real. That Martin Addison threatened to out me, that Martin Addison is….blackmailing me? 

 

It doesn’t seem real. 

 

I want to email Blue and tell him everything. I want to drop out of school and wander the streets for the rest of my life. I want to punch Martin Addison in the fucking face until he can never talk shit ever again. I want to…... take a nap. 

 

At quarter to seven, I’m woken up to sound of someone loudly knocking on my bedroom door. 

 

“Simon, I’ve been yelling at up to you for five minutes!” Dad says, opening the door with his hands on his hips. 

 

I flail my arms without purpose, and blindly sit up. I slept on top of the covers, but my room is dark from the blinds being closed, and my glasses are somewhere to my left, and I have no idea where my phone is. “What?”

 

There’s a sigh. “Come down and help set the table, please.” 

Everything is still dark and blurry. I start fumbling for my glasses. 

“I- okay, sure, just-” I’m squinting, but squinting doesn’t do anything to improve sight, contrary to popular belief, and I  _ really _ just have no clue where my glasses are. 

“Lookin’ for something?”

“Glasses.”

“I’ll get the light for you.” 

“No, wait-” But then there’s a click, and my room is suddenly drenched in painfully bright yellow light. “Agh.” I choke out in genuine pain, my eyes squeezing shut even moreso. “Not at all helping, Dad.”

“Move your hand an inch to the right.” I do as he says and find my glasses immediately. 

“Ah, thanks. Can you turn off the light again?” I beg, slipping the glasses onto my face ungracefully. 

Another click. The red burning sensation eases into nothing, and I blink my eyes open again. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem. See you in…?”

“Five minutes.” He nods, and then I’m alone again. My phone is on my desk, and I grab it on my way to the bathroom. 

 

From:  [ hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com ](mailto:hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com)

To:  [ bluegreen118@gmail.com ](mailto:bluegreen118@gmail.com)

Date: 6:46 PM, September 29

Subject: nap time

 

Blue,

Guess who just took a two hour nap? This guy! School was kind of completely exhausting today, for several different reasons that I won’t get into, but you’ll just have to trust me when I say that feeling drained is an appropriate reaction. 

I guess it’s good that I slept. I mean, I’m still super super super tired, but I have homework, so I need to stay up and work on that. 

How do you deal with messing up? I’m not talking, like, getting a bad grade on a test (though, that’s probably never happened to you). I’m talking like oh-my-god-this-could-really-really-screw-up-a-lot-of-different-things kind of mess ups. 

Your old friend Jacques’ been making a couple of those recently, and no, I’m not just talking about the accidental outing, though that is part of it. 

I just really hate to hurt people. And all of my current problems could definitely hurt people. People who I would hate myself for hurting. 

Here’s another essay question for you: If you had to do something that you didn’t want to do, but the only alternative would be a drastic change to yours and everyone around you’s (that doesn’t look right. Blue, you’re a grammar god, help me out?) life, would you still do it? Even if it meant upsetting some people and/or you?

Take all of this with a grain of salt. It’s been a very long day, two hour nap aside.

 

-Jacques

 

Dinner is tense. Mostly because I’m pretty sure my parents know something's up with me. Neither of them bring it up, though, which I’m thankful for. 

I procrastinate going back upstairs, but when I do, I refuse to open my computer up once. Tonight is a homework night. Tonight is not a night for emailing. 

 

I don’t even remember falling asleep, but it must have happened, because I’m in bed and my alarm is going off loudly and irritatingly.

  
  


Today is round two of auditions, but since I went yesterday, I’m more or less free of theatre nerves. I’m filled with nerves for a totally different reason. In english, Mr Wise announces that he’s going to let us sit around the room to write. We can sit on the floor, in desks that aren’t ours- he even let’s a few people sit in the hall. He looks at me when he announces this. I know that it’s about yesterday, and honestly, I couldn’t be more grateful. I still feel kind of (really) sick, though. 

 

Leah and Nick keep fighting for Abby’s attention, and I’m left feeling like the odd man out once again. I can’t even blame it on Straight People Crushes, because if my theory is right, Leah likes Abby. 

  
  


——— _ Saved 9:31 AM _

“Hold on a second,” Lucas says, interrupting Cody. 

“What is it?” He stares at the screen of his phone. 

 

_ You have one (1) new email from  _ [ _ redyellow434@gmail.com _ ](mailto:redyellow434@gmail.com) _ ! _

 

“Um. It’s a. A text from my mom.” he quickly lies, heart beating faster.

“Okay…” Chloe says, putting a lock of red dyed hair behind her ear. 

“I have to go home, actually,” Lucas says, getting up off the floor. He finds his jacket behind the couch. His blood was pumping faster and faster. “So, uh, I’ll just see you guys at school tomorrow?”

“Sure, but is everything okay?” Asks Kayla, trying not to show her worry. She always was a worrier. 

“Everything’s fine! I’ve just gotta get home, um, and help with dinner now. You know the drill,” Lucas is slowly inching out of Kayla’s room. 

“Okay, see you later?”

“Yeah, yeah. Later.” He practically races out of Kayla’s house and down to his car. He drives himself exactly one block away, and then…..he opens the email. 

 

_ James,  _

_ Hi. This is so weird. I know the Twitter message board is technically available for all of the students to view, but it’s kind of strange knowing that someone out there actually read it and felt something because of it.  _

_ I have to ask, because I’m a little curious: Is James a fake name? Or is that your real name? _

_ James is just a very common name, and I actually know of a couple James’ that go to our school.  _

_ If that is the case, and you are one of those James’, then I hope you won’t mind that I would like to stay anonymous. I’m really just not ready for anyone to find out….you know, yet.  _

_ -Blue _

 

Lucas isn’t able to sit still for the rest of the night. 

———

 

“Simon, have you listened to the  _ Mean Girls _ soundtrack yet?” It’s lunch, and I’d hardly sat down before Abby attacks me. 

“Since you last asked?” She laughs. “Yeah, part of it. I got stuck on Apex Predator, but I keep meaning to listen to more.”

“But you have heard World Burn, right?”

“Um, yes? We listened to just that on repeat for an hour two weeks ago.”

“What a jam, though.”

“Right?”

“What are we talking about?” It’s Nick, who had previously been talking with Leah and her two other friends- Morgan and Anna. I dated Anna for two weeks freshman year, and I still think both hers and Morgan’s personalities are carbon copies of each other. 

“ _ Mean Girls _ .” Abby answers, grinning. 

“Like, the movie?” Nick asks, frowning. 

“No, the musical.” Leah says, cutting into the conversation, only to be immediately removed by Anna, who’s still talking rapidly about something. 

“There’s a musical?”

“YES?” I yell, nearly dropping my water bottle. “I’m aghast, Nick, really. What happened to last year when I was able to get you into musical theatre?”

“Get me into  _ Hamilton _ .” He corrects, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you expect. I’m just a dumb jock.”

 

“Rude.” Says Garrett, joining the conversation as well. “Not all jocks are dumb, man, just you.”

“Go suck a dick, Laughlin.” Nick says, laughing. He throws one of his peas across the table at Garrett, but it hits Bram instead, who grimaces in response, and flicks the pea off the table. 

“Sure thing, Nicky, name a time and a place and I’ll be there.” He adds a wink for good measure. Nick groans. 

“Ugh, boys, please plan your sex flings at some place other than the cafeteria.” Says Abby, looking deeply uncomfortable. “I’m trying to eat, I don’t need to have an image shoved into my mind of Garrett de-“

“OKAY.” I interrupt, probably blushing hotter than the sun. “Okay. Abby, I’m cutting you off, I do not need to hear anymore of that.”

“Hear anymore of what?”

“Whatever you were about to say.”

“Deepthroating?”

 

“ _ ABBY! _ ” I cry, shoving my lunch tray away to faceplant the table. Nick is full on belly laughing, and Garrett seems to holding back his laughter for purely comedic reasons. 

“Abby, do-do you think Spier wants you to keep talking? I think that he does.” Garrett says, trying to keep a straight face but nearly breaking. 

“I don’t really care what Simon wants, but I think I will call it quits.” She laughs, before turning to point her spork at me. “For now.”

“Y’all fucking suck.” I sigh, then instantly freeze. “Don’t freaking dare. Seriously. Don’t any of you  _ freaking _ dare.” 

“I, what makes you think I was gonna?” Nick says, before instantly dissolving into laughter again. Bram lifts his hand to mouth, to hide his own laughter. 

“This is too much for me. I already have a math packet to fail, I seriously can’t take any additional stress.” I say, stabbing mercilessly at my salad, thinking of the packet in my backpack that I  _ totally _ BS-ed at least sixty percent of. And Martin. And english. And Blue. 

 

“Dude, Greenfeld and I are in Algebra with you, you could’ve asked us for answers.” Garrett says offhandedly. 

“Impossible. There’s no one in that class who can finish one of Dennis’ packets without gouging out their eyeballs.”

A pause, then: “I mean, Bram finished and I got  all my answers from him. I think he's still sane.” I look at Bram, who looks suddenly uncomfortable with this conversation. 

“Well, Bram doesn’t count. He’s, like, a genius or something. ” I reply. 

“I am  _ not  _ a genius.” Bram says. I could honestly get  _ so _ used to this New Bram that actually talks to me. It’s kind of amazing. 

“Dude, shut up.”

“Garrett.” He says, putting stress on his name. His face goes into a kind of creased, sour expression, and I chuckle from behind my hand.

“ _ Bram _ ,” Garrett says back mockingly. 

“You’re so annoying.” He grumbles, dropping his gaze back down to the table.

“Aw, that’s exactly I feel about Nick.” I say, laughing. Bram looks over at me, smiling kind of awkwardly. 

“What about me?” Nick asks, sliding into the conversation. 

“Wow, way to eavesdrop.” Garrett jokes. 

“No, I heard my name.”

“I called you annoying.” I supply, and he rolls his eyes. 

“I can’t believe I abandoned my conversation with,” His voice drops significantly quieter. “ _ Abby _ just to be called annoying.”

“Oooooh,  _ Abby _ .” Garrett laughs, elbowing Nick. 

 

Something uncomfortable squirms around in my stomach. I don’t really like talking about crushes. For a really obvious reason. 

 

“Anyway,” I say, segwaying the conversation away from her. “The cast list for the play gets announced this Friday and I’m like, buzzing in anticipation.”

“Ooh, are we talking about theatre?” Abby asks, leaning towards us. Nick gets a gooey expression. 

“Spier was just talkin’ about it.” Garrett answers while shoving a chicken nugget into his mouth. 

“What’s the play about?” Nick asks, like he hadn’t spent an hour researching the show when I told him Abby was auditioning too.

“Well, it’s  _ Oliver _ which is like….” She blanks. Abby looks at me, and then I, with salad physically inside my mouth, also totally blank.

“Uh,” I swallow. “It’s like. It’s  _ Oliver _ . You know?”

“Right,” Says Nick. “It’s  _ Oliver _ .”

“Oliver, y’know him. Ollie he’s-” Abby cuts me off with a sudden burst of laughter. She grabs my arm, her shoulders shaking.

“Ollie?!” I exhale a laugh. 

“He’s just Ollie.”

“I heard that Ms. Albright was making the Oliver role gender neutral,” Says Nick, like he hadn’t spent an hour researching the show. “You’d probably be good for the part, Abby.”

“Oh, thanks Nick.” She smiles. 

“Wow, Nick. I’m so glad you believe in me too.”

“No, I just meant, like, she would- she’d be good for the part! Plus, when do you ever see female leads in gender neutral casting?”

“Yeah,” I nod, biting back the words  _ When do you ever see  _ gay people _ in casting at all?! _

 

“It’d be fun to be a lead.” Abby commented. “But I’ll just be happy to get in.”

“Yeah, me too. I just  _ want _ a lead.” Nick nods thoughtfully. 

“Anyway, what’s going on in the sports world?”

“Just...sports?”

“Just sports?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, I never would have guessed.”

“Simon!” Abby laughs, smacking my arm. “Since when are you so sarcastic?”

“Leah’s been converting me. Which is a really weird way to phrase it, actually.”

“Okay.” She says and looks away. 

 

Lunch ends about five minutes later. And the day goes on. 

 

From:  [ bluegreen118@gmail.com ](mailto:bluegreen118@gmail.com)

To:  [ hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com ](mailto:hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com)

Date:

Subject: re: nap time

 

Oh, Jacques. I feel like you’ve been having a really hard past few days. Would I be wrong in assuming that? I’m sorry about your exhausting day, and I wish I could somehow be there to help you, or at least to do something. I don’t like it when you’re upset. 

As for your questions: Wow, those are some pretty heavy thoughts. I have to admit, I’m a little concerned about those ‘big deal’ problems. I hope they don’t turn out to be as bad as you thought. I suppose if I were in a situation like that (as vague as it is), I would try do the least damage possible. I don’t know if that’s helpful in your situation, but if there’s anything else you can tell me, it would be helpful to give you better advice. 

I hope the rest of the week is better for you.

 

-Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this used to be way longer but then i decided that it was most of it didn't fit the scene so i cut it out lol. but it was a cute scene i might use it at some point later.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! so I absolutely love Becky Albertalli's books, and i've really wanted to write something for them thats more than just one chapter. I'm actually really excited to work on this! Not sure exactly what the update schedule will be like, but Summer is starting really soon for me, so hopefully it won't be too crazy spread out! I hope you enjoy and decide to stick around!


End file.
